


in sickness and in health

by mellowheart



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Banter, Drunk Cora, Drunken Shenanigans, F/F, Marriage, background sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 23:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15302481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellowheart/pseuds/mellowheart





	in sickness and in health

            _**Lydia had told Cora**_ approximately five times that she shouldn’t touch the moonshine in Derek’s alcohol cabinet. Five times over the span of ten minutes, her warnings growing more urgent over the short span of time; yet Cora was insistent that they celebrate the end of exam week by getting flat-out drunk, because although Lydia got through her exams without creating a single worry line along her brow, the other girl felt like she was wreathed in the scholarly flames of her textbooks. She had hopped around on the scorching coals of “you will fail the semester if you don’t pass these exams” and “I don’t understand shit” for the past few weeks, and she was finally done with it all. She had triumphed and she was going to drink the stress away, goddamn it.

 

            So, at the moment, she couldn’t find it in herself to listen to Lydia’s lectures about the dangers of underage drinking, because she was twenty years old and she knew kids who had gotten their first taste of alcoholic beverages way before their college years. And she was a married woman who owned an apartment with her beautiful wife, and marriage alone had added several years to her mental maturity; although the disapproving gaze of said wife made her feel a tad guilty, the cool and smooth texture of the neck of the bottle made her heart sing. Cora saw that as a sign, because her heart didn’t sing very often - usually, it just judged people. 

 

            She popped the wooden stopper out of the bottle and watched the transparent, almost glittering, liquid swish around; for as long as she could remember, she had been under the impression that werewolves couldn’t get drunk under any circumstance, because the would-be harmful effects of consuming alcohol (dizziness, lack of focus, and stumbling movements) were quickly wiped away due to their instantaneous healing. But a few days ago, she’d overheard Stiles ask Derek if werewolf alcohol existed. Cora had originally planned to simply snort at the stupidity of the question and go on with her studying, but then her brother had answered with information that was rather interesting.

 

            Werewolf moonshine, not at all like the brown, murky liquor that humans drank, was invented in the 90’s, and had been secretly passed around the supernatural community ever since. Not many millennial wolves knew about it due to its secrecy, but older ones were constantly bartering and trading to get some of it; you could only get it from witches, and since they were very adamant about remaining hidden from the humans of Beacon Hills, moonshine was difficult to find. Derek had probably said more after that, but Cora had tuned out at that point, because werewolf alcohol existed and there was an entire bottle of it in Derek’s house.

 

            Now that Derek and Stiles had left the house to go see some Marvel movie, the young werewolf finally got to seize her chance to get drunk, for once; she knew that drinking it while they were there was a bad idea, because while Stiles would laugh it off, Derek would shift into Protective Big Brother mode, and that was the absolute last thing she needed. 

 

            “Whatever,” Lydia said, the high-pitched and lofty tone of her voice cutting through Cora’s thoughts; she flipped a lock of red hair over her shoulder and picked up her phone from the kitchen table, somehow managing to look elegant and poised in a t-shirt and sweatpants. “If you want to get shitfaced off of some sketchy werewolf liquor instead of watching a movie with me, it’s your call.”

 

            Cora had been carefully removing a crystal-clean wine glass from one of the wooden cabinets, and paused when she heard what Lydia said. She pressed her lips together and huffed through her nose, slowly turning around with a mix of guilt and annoyance swarming around her ribcage like an emotional beehive. Why couldn’t she be reckless in peace? If the roles reversed, she would say “cheers to that” and go eat her body weight in Cheetos - or possibly pour a drink for herself.

 

            The other girl was looking right at Cora, her wrist slackened and her phone in her hand’s loose grip. She could have sworn she had a defensive response, but the amused look in Lydia’s green eyes made her lower her defenses. “I know what you’re thinking: ‘How did I end up with such a responsible woman for a wife?’”

 

            Cora quirked an eyebrow, replying with a dry tone. “More like ‘Why did I marry such a buzzkill?’, but I guess that’s close enough.”

 

            The redhead gasped, her mouth forming a perfect “O” and her body straightening like she’d been electrocuted. Then, she crumbled up a used napkin and threw it at Cora, rolling her eyes when the werewolf swiftly caught it with a smirk. Supernatural reflexes truly made her life easier; if she’d actually gotten hit by the napkin, Lydia would’ve never let her live it down.

 

            “I’m getting a divorce,” Lydia declared, scooting her chair back so she could stand up, producing a light screech. She then cocked her hip and crossed her arms over her chest, the tilt of her head causing several strands of hair to sweep onto her forehead; enhanced vision also had its perks, for she could enjoy the subtle beauties and delicacies of Lydia Martin’s face without having to stare.

 

            She let her gaze drift to the defined curve of Lydia’s jaw for just a moment, looking away before she could get distracted. Staring at the other girl’s neck tended to transform conversations into something else completely.

 

           Cora shrugged and put the entrance of the bottle against the rim of the glass with a clink, slowly pouring in the moonshine. “Fine. I’ll have the papers filled out by tomorrow morning.”

 

            “Can’t fill out papers if you pass out on the floor in thirty minutes and wake up with a hangover,” she responded sweetly, her eyes widened with faux innocence and her lips curling into a smile that dripped with sarcasm. 

 

            “It’s cute that you assume I’m a lightweight.”

 

            “Well, with your _light weight_ , how could you not be?” Lydia inquired, pointedly scanning Cora’s slender frame. “A glass of water could make you tilt over, let alone supernatural alcohol.”

 

            “I guess that makes you the dom in this relationship, princess,” Cora replied, calmly raising her glass high in the air Jay Gatsby-style. She may be smaller than most werewolves, but she had a prideful amount of strength buried in the muscles of her slender limbs. At least she wasn’t Stiles’ level of skinny, scrawny everywhere and tripping over air.

 

            “Fine by me; I’ve been taking yoga classes,” her wife called out as she sashayed into the living room with a wave of her hand. “ _Toodaloo_ , my dear.”

 

            “ _Toodalee_.”

            The werewolf lightly swished the liquid around and took a sip, sighing contentedly when the warmth of the liquor spread down her body like a trickling waterfall. “Besides, you know I love watching you leave.”

 

            Lydia hummed in response, and just like that, the conversation was over; whenever Cora wanted to do something stupid, she ended up letting her do it in the end, because as much as she loved warning people, she loved to see them suffer from the consequences even more. That thought alone should’ve made the werewolf reel back and reconsider the repercussions of drinking alcohol specifically for werewolves, created by witches. But she’d taken a few sips and hadn’t dropped dead, so she figured it would be fine.

 

            She decided to concentrate on the creak of her partner’s footsteps against the hardwood floor of Derek’s home. The two of them liked to come around here every so often, just to check up on things; also, the house was big enough to fit five families and a dog - thanks to the money from the Hale vault - so whenever Cora and Lydia wanted to venture out of their humble little apartment for a night, they came here. Derek always asked Cora if she wanted some of the vault money, claiming that hording it all made him feel selfish, but she declined every time. In her eyes, her brother deserved the very best, including the best living arrangements. 

 

            Cora heard the mumble of the television after Lydia turned it on, news anchors chattering away; then, there was a few minutes of silence, during which she slid into the chair her wife had previously vacated and tilted her up towards the ceiling. Soft music - probably the opening credits of a movie - and then..Ryan Gosling was speaking.

 

            _The Notebook_ , she thought, her eyes rolling up to the stratosphere. _Of course._

 

            And because she didn’t want Lydia to cry during the movie without a body to hold her close, she told herself she would join her once she got a buzz going. Plus, she would need all the alcohol in the world to be able to watch that cliche monstrosity of a film; it had been fine the first few times she’d watched it with Lydia - during the first year of their relationship back in high school - but now, she merely tolerated it and resisted the urge to plug her ears with wine stoppers. She could only stand to watch two heteros kiss in the rain so many times. 

 

            The werewolf took a longer swig, leaving the glass less than half-full, and furrowed her eyebrows together; she expected to feel a little looser by now, but all she felt was a constant warmth - it was a nice feeling, but not quite what she wanted nor expected. If she wanted to just feel _warm_ , she would’ve taken a dip in the washing machine and then sat in the drier.

 

            After downing the rest of the cup, she shook her head in disbelief, reaching for the bottle and refilling the glass. Cora slid her elbow onto the cool surface of the kitchen table and leaned her temple against her fist, staring at the neon green characters of the clock on the stove and taking small sips. She took a journey into her own thoughts again, pondering if this was just an elaborate prank orchestrated by Derek; her brother wasn’t one for pranks or general childish activities, but she knew there was a sense of humor hidden behind his gruff exterior.

 

            Whatever. It still tasted good, sweet with a tang of a citrus flavor. Cora was convinced that it was liquid magic, from the way it warmed her from the inside out, relaxing her into a slumping position and shifting her focus to the doorway that led into the living room; the werewolf wasn’t sure how long it had been since she’d started drinking, and wasn’t in the mood to calculate - that was Lydia’s job. However, she had a decent grasp on the passage of time, and was pretty sure there was a big chunk of the movie left. 

 

            Maybe she would just chill here until the movie got emotional and she had to play Superman for the night. Maybe...she would just...rest her eyes, just for a minute. Just for...a minute...

 

*

 

            When Cora opened her eyes, a girl with red hair - possibly strawberry blonde - filled her vision, the gentle slopes of her brows furrowing when they made eye contact. The girl had a cute button nose that reminded the werewolf of all the crushes she had on cartoon characters; Ariel from the Little Mermaid immediately came to mind, and then Kim Possible. As her gaze shifted to their full, plush lips, she started to wonder if she had a thing for redheads.

 

            “That would explain a lot,” Cora whispered in wonder, her eyes widening at the face of this recent revelation. 

 

            The stranger’s frown grew deeper, forming lines along her forehead. “What do you-”

 

            “My name’s Coral,” she slurred as she raised her arms, pausing mid-stretch and letting out a giggle. “Wait, no. My name is...uh...”

 

            “Take your time,” the redhead cut in, the corners of her lips tilting upwards. She had a nice voice, smooth like honey and gentle enough for Cora to feel safe with her; it probably wasn’t wise to talk to strangers, even pretty strangers, but she didn’t _feel_ like she was in danger. So why would she run away?

 

            “My name is Cora. Uh...I...” She looked down at her hands and frowned, trying to find words that made sense to her. Her brain had turned into mush, pouring out of her ears and leaving her brainless. “..Lesbian.”

 

            “Is that so?” the woman asked with an arched brow. “Welcome to the club, then.”

 

            _She’s a lesbian, too? My God, what are the odds of that?_ Cora thought, cocking her head and letting a smile spread across her face slowly, her cheeks becoming more pronounced and her nose scrunching up a bit. She could picture herself spending the rest of her life with this woman, just running her fingers through the waves of her hair and occasionally getting up to cook her meals; she’d never thought of herself as the domestic type, and she definitely couldn’t cook, but she was fine with making changes. This nameless woman deserved to be catered to, always; she could imagine her lounging on a throne, being fed grapes and fanned with palm leaves.

 

            Suddenly, Cora gasped and clapped her hands on the sides of the other woman’s face, drawing circles on her cheeks. “We should get married!”

 

            The redhead bared her teeth in a grimace, shaking her head and raising her hand to show off the sparkling band of silver on her ring finger. “I wish I could, but...”

 

            Cora groaned, dropping her hands to the other girl’s shoulders and bowing her head. “Fuck. I’m never making my move ever again.”

 

            “Don’t worry,” she said through a light laugh, lifting Cora’s chin with two fingers. “You’ll find the one for you sooner than you think, sweetheart.”

 

            “You think so?”

 

            “I _know_ so,” the other woman insisted, and pressed a kiss against the werewolf’s forehead. The beat of her heart didn’t skip, so Cora knew she was telling the truth; and thank God for that, because she would need to find someone in order to fix this heartbreak. 

 

            “Now,” she continued, wrapping her fingers around a water bottle that Cora didn’t notice before, “you need to drink this. It’ll help you focus, okay?”

 

            Cora nodded and accepted the water, screwing off the blue cap and tilting the bottle upwards as she drank. Once she started, she couldn’t stop, the refreshing draught of water awakening every cell in her body and hydrating places she didn’t realize were dry. Before long, the bottle was empty and she was gasping for air, blinking away any dizziness and cringing when a dull ache started to grow from the centers of her temples. It felt like Lydia had dumped a tub of ice cold water over her head.

 

            The werewolf smacked a hand onto her forehead, her mind sharpening and taking in her surroundings. “Lydia. Your name is Lydia.”

 

            Lydia chuckled, her grin causing her keen eyes to squint slightly. “Took you long enough.”

 

            “You have no idea how fucking long I’ve been trying to figure that out,” Cora said through gritted teeth, ignoring her partner’s laughter. She had to clench her hands into fists in order to keep herself from chucking the bottle of moonshine at the wall; it would be satisfying, to see the devil juice splashed against the wall, the shards of glass sparkling on the floor.But it would only create a mess, so instead, she closed her eyes and made a vow to herself:

 

            _Never again. Never the fuck again_.


End file.
